Jackson Jones, Book 1_ The Tale of a Boy, an Elf, and a Very Stinky Fish - Jenn L. Kelly [30]
“Meeka? What’s up with this doorknob? Where does it go? Is there a door on the ground? What’s behind the door?” Jackson asked. (I told you he had been thinking of it.)
“I really don’t know,” she mumbled at the floor.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“Um, I just don’t know.” She looked up at the ceiling.
Jackson stepped closer to her. “Are you not telling me something?”
Meeka jammed a fistful of hair into her mouth.
Jackson placed a hand on her shoulder. Her big brown eyes looked up at Jackson fretfully. (Fretful means worried. Like when your begging dog begins to whine because he’s worried you won’t give him a bite. Actually, that’s just bad manners.)
“Meeka, do you know where this door goes?” Jackson asked.
She shook her head no, some hair falling out of her mouth.
“If you know where this door goes, why won’t you tell me?”
Meeka looked up at Jackson and opened her mouth. The rest of her gacky-wet hair fell onto her shoulders. She snapped her mouth shut.
“Listen, I’m not moving anywhere until you tell me where this door goes.”
Meeka looked over her shoulder, then up at the ceiling. She looked over Jackson’s shoulder, then bent over and looked upside down through her legs. Then she stood up and stepped toward Jackson, putting her little mouth near his ear.
“I’m not supposed to talk about it. You’re supposed to discover it for yourself,” she whispered. She jerked back into position and stared at her fingernails.
This was getting altogether too complicated.
“So if I discover this doorknob by myself and open it, will you come in with me?”
Meeka looked upside down through her legs again. Jackson bent upside down and looked through his. He saw an upside-down hallway. He straightened up.
“Only because you’re my friend,” she whispered.
Jackson nodded at her. He pointed at the doorknob.
“Oh my!” he said in a very loud voice. “I’ve found a DOORKNOB! On the FLOOR, no less! I wonder where it GOES? Meeka, can I open this door?”
“SURE YOU CAN!”
Jackson kneeled down. He turned the doorknob and…
Chapter 41
In Which the Writer Prepares You
I want to prepare you for this part. You aren’t going to like it. You aren’t going to like it at all. And it’s going to frustrate you. But then you’ll like it again. That’s all I can really tell you right now. So you’d better keep reading.
…and…
Chapter 42
A Chapter that Requires a Key Again
…it was locked.
“Oh, for crying out loud!!!” Jackson yelled.
Meeka squeaked and jumped back.
“Why won’t this door open?” He turned to her.
Meeka squeaked again. She trembled and muttered something.
“What?”
“It’s locked.”
“I can see that it’s locked, Meeka,” Jackson said superciliously. (Supercilious means arrogant and grouchy. I’ve already explained it back on page 133. Don’t you remember?)
Meeka’s head hung lower.
“I’m sorry, Meeka. Yes, it is locked. Would you happen to have the key?”
Meeka trembled. “I’m going to get fired.”
“Why are you going to get fired?”
“I lost the key. Again.”
“Where did you lose the key, Meeka?”
“I don’t know,” she wailed, throwing her little arms into the air. “It’s the same key that opens the gate of the house. And the trapdoor! And this door! And I LOST IT!”
“What trapdoor?”
“Er…never mind.” Meeka’s fingers twisted her hair.
“Well, isn’t there a spare key we can use?”
“I’ve lost it! And the other, other spare is at the house. BUT I LOST THAT TOO!” Meeka threw herself against the wall and pounded it with her fists. “I’m going to get fired! I always lose things! WHAAAAAA!”
Jackson was annoyed, but he didn’t want to upset Meeka further. Nothing is worse than a screaming girl. Except maybe a crying girl. And she was doing both. No point exacerbating the situation. (Exacerbating is like when you pick your scab and then it bleeds more,
and your mother tells you to stop doing that because you’ll just make it worse.)
Jackson sat down against the wall and contemplated the doorknob. Meeka slid from